Every Damn Time, You Were Right Beside Me
by FallenOutTheWindow
Summary: "It's a load of bollocks. The whole notion of a soul mate is preposterous, the very belief that there's this one set person out there who is supposedly just perfect for you," pausing, Simmons looked at the man lying before her, "It's ridiculous. Isn't it?"
1. I Don't Know What I'd Do If I Lost You

**A/N: Okay, trying to write for AoS again and bear with me on this one, it's going to be a little weird until we get into it... This whole thing stems from a quote on Tumblr that managed to scientifically explain soul mates and my brain just ran with it. Please let me know what you think of it, I'm a little worried about this one and this chapter is ridiculously short, do you have any idea how hard it is to write dialogue with a coma patient?! **

**Anyway, I'm getting off track. Please enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

**_I Don't Know What I'd Do If I Lost You_**

"You guys are like soul mates, you know that, right? So, you've got to come back. We all miss you but Simmons is freaking out without you," Skye told the comatose body of one Leopold Fitz. "She's not FitzSimmons-ing anymore, she's just Simmons-ing and worrying and you need to fix that. You _have_ to fix it," the self-proclaimed hacktivist begged, unaware that standing in the doorway, watching the entire interaction, was the biochemist herself.

Staying silent, Simmons watched as Skye attempted to bribe, blackmail and beg Fitz to wake up.

"Well, I have to go, AC-DC is waiting for me-"

"You really ought to stop calling him that," Jemma interrupted, defending the newly appointed Director Coulson.

"Hey, if the joke fits…" Skye began, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Simmons lied, "I just got here myself to check on Fitz."

"Uh-huh, sure. Well, take care of him; I'll come see you both later, I'll bring food."

"You really don't have to," Jemma tried to argue as Skye ran down the hall. She knew that fighting would be pointless as Skye had appointed herself mother-hen, taking care of Jemma however she could which recently included forcing the scientist to stop and eat something every few hours.

Simmons had noticed that her appearance had changed since Fitz had been moved to the Playground; she'd lost weight. A lot. Her already slight frame now seemed more pronounced, her cheekbones standing out and her hair had begun falling out which had led to an impromptu hair cutting session that Skye had thankfully salvaged.

Moving to sit in the empty chair beside Fitz's bed, Jemma ran through ideas of what to say to her motionless partner while pulling at a loose thread. Trip had been reading to him, picking up whatever he could find and just reading for hours on end while Coulson usually just came by for a minute or two to see how the engineer was in between meetings before leaving. Skye kept him apprised of the recent gossip on base, telling him all about the latest horrors of training telling him to wake up repeatedly. Agent May just stared and told him to 'hurry up' whenever she came by.

Taking a moment to compose herself, readying herself to greet her long time best friend and before beginning her nightly vigil.

"It's a load of bollocks, I hope you know," Jemma whispered, surprising herself. "The whole notion of a soul mate is preposterous, the very belief that there's this one set person out there who is supposedly just perfect for you," pausing, Simmons looked at the man lying before her, "It's ridiculous. Isn't it?"

The idea of soul mates didn't sit well with Jemma Simmons, there was no way to identify it or measure it, there was nothing remotely scientific about the idea. It was just pure chance, to find someone who you connected with on so many levels but to say that the encounter was fate was ridiculous.

Standing, feeling the vertebrae in her back pop as she moved, Jemma waited silently for Fitz to argue with her, to say something, _anything_, to go against her but, as usual, Fitz said nothing. Instead, the Scot remained impassive, laying comatose on the bed as she paced the floor; the only noises coming from the ventilator forcing air into his lungs and the persistent beeping of the cardiac monitor which she just knew would drive Fitz mad if he were aware of it.

Halting mid-pace, Jemma turned and watched her partners face for any sign of change and finding none she resigned herself to sitting back in the chair by the head of the engineer's bed. Humming softly, Jemma idly picked up Fitz's hand, turning it over and running her hands over the scars and callouses left behind after years of work. One week ago, Jemma could barely bring herself to touch Fitz, the guilt over taking the canister of oxygen and her anger at her partner's reckless behaviour had kept her away from the hospital room entirely but, like magnets, Simmons quickly found herself beside her partner once more.

"And why are soul mates always romantic, why can't they just be best friends? How would a person even know they'd found their soul mate? It's not like you just get a letter in the post, is it? '_Congratulation on finding each other'_…" Trailing off quietly, Jemma looked up, eyes studying the face of the man who had been beside her through so much. "What if they were too late?" she whispered, tears beginning to swell, preparing to fall.

"Fitz, what happens if you lose your soul mate?" Jemma begged, "What happens if you find them and you lose them?"

Running a hand through her hair, barely noticing several strands falling out as she did so, the biochemist waited for an answer, desperate for response. Feeling the tears rolling down her cheek, dripping off of her chin, Jemma leant forward, placing her hand on Fitz's scruff covered jaw while griping his hand tightly with her other hand. "What happens if I lose you?"

Knowing that she would receive no answer, Jemma sat down on the side of the hospital bed occupied by her best friend, noticing the items on the bedside table.

Get well cards.

Flowers.

A rubik's cube.

A monkey.

_A monkey._

"_I like to think of the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed..."_

Smiling to herself, Jemma moved so that she could lay down beside Fitz, careful not to pull at any other the wires attached to his body.

"Maybe they would meet again," she mused, reaching out to grasp Fitz's hand, "Maybe soul mates don't die, they just change. What if it's just energy, searching for the right person, the right energy?"

Resting her head on her partners shoulder, Jemma smiled, turning her head to press a small, chaste kiss to Fitz's jaw.

"I won't lose you Fitz, I'll find you; I'll find your energy. Or you'll find mine," Jemma whispered, allowing her eyes to close, imagining herself and Fitz finding each other, over and over again, listening to the steady beeping of the cardiac monitor and dreaming of Fitz's hand, fitting just right with her own and his fingers tightening around hers.

* * *

**A/N2: Honesty time, what did you think? I know this is only the prologue but any feedback would be appreciated... **


	2. The Boy With The Blue Eyes

**A/N: Chapter two here and this should start to put things into perspective. Each chapter will be a 'what if' style chapter, all the different ways the Fitz and Simmons could find each other and with that in mind, I present you with this...**

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**_The Boy With The Blue Eyes_**

_New York, 1927_

The first thing Jemma noticed about the mechanic was his blue eyes that seemed dimmed in the garage lighting. The second thing she noticed was how afraid he seemed. _Not surprising,_ she though, _especially faced with these brutes._

Opening the car door, Jemma Ward didn't bother waiting for one of her husbands 'assistants' to help her down from the car; instead, rearranging her skirt around her and checking that her headband and shawl were in place, she strode over to where Grant's right hand man stood.

"Mr Kaminsky! You are terrifying the poor boy-"

"Man, actually," the mechanic interrupted, standing taller and furiously wiping motor oil off of his hands and onto a rag which he quickly put in his pocket before looking down.

"I'm sure you are," Jemma laughed, looking the mechanic up and down, noticing the slight accent he held. "Well then, Mr Fitz, all I have heard for the past week is how good you are with your hands, care to prove that hypothesis for me?" Jemma asked, flirting slightly, enjoying the blush that spread across the man's ears and cheeks.

"I, um, well, I could give it a try. If you'd like."

"That would be wonderful, Mr Fitz. Grant can't quite seem to keep out of trouble you see and our cars don't quite work as well riddled with bullet holes."

"Course not, Miss."

"Mrs, actually," Jemma corrected. "No matter, I will see you tomorrow, 10 o'clock, on the dot."

Clearing his throat, the mechanic finally looked up, taking in the sight of one Jemma Ward properly for the first time, "Tha'll be fine Mrs Ward, I'll make sure the garage is cleared for the day."

"Perfect! Well, Mr Fitz, I'll look forward to seeing what you can do-"

"Fitz," the man interrupted her.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you corrected me earlier so I thought you should know, Mr Fitz was my da, I'm jus' Fitz."

"My apologies, _Fitz_," Jemma smirked before returning to the car. The engineer was certainly interesting enough.

* * *

The next morning, Jemma was dragged through the alleyways of New York in search of Fitz's mechanic shop buy Grant Ward, head of the Red Skull mob. Ward had fought his way to the top, using his grandfather's status as a Dead rabbit member to take what he wanted.

Finally, after twelve wrong turns they found the modest shop, tucked away from prying eyes.

"Jemma, sweetheart, why don't you introduce me," Ward shouted, sauntering in and picking up odd parts, turning them in his hands before dropping them onto Fitz's work desk. Jemma had seen Grant use this intimidation tactic before, striding around as if he owned the place, make the other man feel smaller and leave before anyone could ask any questions.

"Grant, dear, this is Mr Fitz-"

"I thought I told you I wa' jus' Fitz," the engineer laughed, looking up at the brunette and smiling.

"But that would be _polite_, would it, sweetheart?" Ward boomed, "Anyway, Fitzy, time for you to get to work. Fix the cars and I'll pay you, don't fix them and, well, let's not find out, shall we?"

Turning quickly, Ward gestured for two of his followers to bring in the cars, moving them over to an empty work area.

"Now I have to be going but I'll be leaving Walters and Cain here, just as a precaution, you understand? I'll be back by five; I hope you'll have something to show me by then. Be good," Ward warned, smiling and pulling at Jemma's shawl before walking away, lighting up a cigarette.

"Righ' then," Fitz spoke up, clapping his hands, breaking the silence left behind, "S'pose I'd best get started then."

* * *

By twelve, the henchmen Ward had left behind began growing restless, wandering aimlessly from the door to odd tools dotted around the work area.

"You two don't have to stay here, you know. There's a speakeasy jus' round the corner if you wanted," Fitz called out, watching the way Waters was all too ready to bolt. Cain however seemed a little more reluctant to leave, instead looking over to Jemma.

Giving a slight nod, Cain smiled, pulling his partner along with him and out of the door, leaving Fitz alone with Jemma.

"You okay?" he called out, startling the young woman.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, you keep rubbing your neck like that when you think no one's looking," gesturing to the hand on her neck, Fitz cocked his head. "You don't have to tell me anythin' of course, jus' thought you might wanna talk about it. You seem sorta lonely."

"Ha, as if I had the chance!"

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jemma tried to backtrack, "It's just, well, they hardly leave me alone. Always watching me like, like a-"

"Bird. In a cage."

"Yes," Jemma sighed, smiling. "What about you, don't you ever get lonely, there's no one here."

"Yeah, I mean, I like what I do so I don't worry about it but it nice. To talk to someone," putting down his wrench, Fitz wiped his hands before walking over to his bag beside Jemma, pulling out a thermos, "You want some? It's not anythin' illegal, I promise. Jus' tea."

"I'd love a cup, I haven't had real tea in a long time," Jemma spoke, taking the cup that was offered to her and taking a sip before coughing. "And that is nothing like real tea! What did you do to it?" She laughed.

"Nothin', what d'you mean?"

"You ruined it with all that sugar!"

"Well I'm sorry, your highness but this is all I've got," Fitz laughed, watching Jemma's face contort as she tried to swallow the sickly sweet drink.

"Well, perhaps next time you should do better."

* * *

And he did. For weeks, Ward kept sending work Fitz's way and Jemma stayed, watching as he worked, often talking to the machines, improving them and offering to teach her the basics. As time passed, Jemma struck up a friendship with the mechanic

"So where are you from then?" Fitz asked, adding spoon after spoon of sugar to his tea, watching as Jemma screwed up her nose.

"Originally, England."

"I thought I heard an accent!" Fitz crowed, laughing, eyes lighting up.

"Well you're not one to talk are you? You're Scottish aren't you?"

"I was, moved here for work with my Da. Then he passed away and I never went back."

"Why not?" Jemma asked, sipping at the tea and leaning in.

"Couldn't afford it, still can't. That's why I'm doin' this; I'm savin' up to buy a ticket back home. I'll whatever I can to get back, to see the sunrise over the hills jus' once more."

Staring down at her cup wistfully, Jemma couldn't help the sad smile that broke free, "That sounds wonderful, Fitz. I hope you make it."

"Me too, you could go back too."

"I left England a long time ago. My parents died and a business man took me in. He was a wonderful man, took care of me and clothed me, brought me to America and tried to keep me safe as best he could."

"What happen to him, if you don't mind me askin'."

"Grant killed him. He wanted to marry me and Mr Coulson said no," looking up, Jemma watched the mechanic's face, waiting for the look of horror that she was used to receiving after telling her tale. But Fitz, instead of being repulsed moved forward to take her hand.

"God, Jemma, I wish I could help you but I-"

"You just called me 'Jemma'."

"I did? I'm sorry Mrs Ward, it won't happen again," Fitz apologised, pulling away from Jemma until she stopped him.

Reaching out, taking a hold of Fitz's arm, Jemma smiled. "I'd like for you to call me Jemma, Fitz."

"You sure?" Fitz asked, worried he'd overstepped his bounds.

"Positive," Jemma beamed, moving to drink the last of her tea.

* * *

The banging from the work shop was what had woken Fitz and expecting the worse, the young mechanic picked up a monkey wrench and ran to throw open the door.

What he found there was worse than any thief or thug he'd imagined.

Instead, standing in the rain with a split lip, a ripped dress and with several visible bruises forming was one Jemma Ward, crying.

"Can I come in?" she asked, gesturing for Fitz to put down his tool when he didn't move.

"Yeah, course. God, Jemma, what happened?"

"There was another woman and Grant got mad and oh God, Fitz he was cheating on me," Jemma cried, reaching out to hold onto the mechanic.

Wasting no time, Fitz quickly wrapped his arms around the petite brunette, whispering well-meaning words and trying to choke back his anger that anyone would hurt the woman in his arms. "C'mon, look at me," Fitz asked, pulling away to dry Jemma's soaked cheeks, "God, you look a mess."

"Thank you," Jemma laughed, knowing that Fitz's outburst wasn't meant to hurt her.

"No, I just mean that we need to get you somewhere safe. We could call someone-"

"Fitz, no."

"Jemma-"

"Fitz, I can't, "Jemma begged, tears rolling down her cheeks once again, "I can't leave him, he'll find me and kill anyone who got in his way and I can't let him do that. Fitz I can't," Jemma trailed off before breaking down in front of the mechanic.

"What if I could take you somewhere that he wouldn't find you?" Fitz whispered, watching as Jemma slowly looked up.

"There's no use in trying, he'll-"

"Come with me," Fitz interrupted, letting go of Jemma to run and fetch his old toolbox that he kept beside his bed. "This was my Da's and everythin' that means anythin' is in here. All my letters from my Ma. Pictures of family. Your scarf and these," Fitz finished explaining, pulling out two tickets to England. "There's a ferry that leaves tomorrow night, come with me."

"I, I don't know what to say," Jemma stuttered.

"Say yes, come on Jemma. I can't leave you, you're the only friend I have here-"

"You're my only friend too."

"And I can't leave you, I- I… I need you. Beside me. Always," Fitz rushed, letting the words fall out, unrehearsed.

"Fitz, I can't," Jemma protested weakly.

"Yes you can, here, this one's for you. Either come with me or sell it and run; I just want you to be safe and happy. Please," he begged, watching Jemma's face for a sign.

Opening her mouth to respond, Jemma felt her heart fall as instead of hearing her own voice, all she heard was Grant yelling her name.

"He's found me, I knew he would, oh God-"

"Jemma, breathe, go. Run, pack and come with me, please," Fitz begged, taking a hold of the young woman's shoulders, forcing her to focus. "Come with me, I'll take care of you."

Taking a deep breath, Jemma looked up, looking into Fitz bright blue eyes, "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Fitz smiled, "Six o'clock, dock 19."

"I'll be there," Jemma smiled, moving forward to press a brief kiss to the mechanics cheek before running, eager to pack and start a new life.

Sighing and smiling, Fitz lifted his hand to his cheek, touching the spot where Jemma had kissed him. "She'll be there."

* * *

The next morning, Jemma sat by Ward throughout breakfast, ignoring her churning stomach and the pain from the bruised he'd left on her the night before.

"Are you well, dear?" Ward Asked, voice sickly sweet.

"Fine."

"Wonderful, well I'd best be going; perhaps you'd like to read the paper?" Ward laughed tossing the new paper to her and watching as she read through the headlines until she stopped.

Barely breathing, Jemma tried to understand the words in black and white before her: _**YOUNG MECHANIC FOUND DEAD**_. Looking up, seeing the smirk on Grant's face as he left, Jemma knew that the boy with the blue eyes wouldn't be meeting her at the harbour that evening and worse yet, she knew why.

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**A/N2: I had to bring back Kaminski and the idea of having Ward as a mob boss and Jemma in 20s attire was too good to pass up. Anyway, please let me know what you thought, I have a few ideas of how I'd like this to go but I'm open to suggestions. **

**Thank you for the positive reactions so far, please keep following a favouriting and don't be afraid to drop me a review! Any constructive criticism or feedback is greatly appreciated! **


	3. Sometimes, Sparks Fly

**A/N: Part three here, let me know if you'd like to see these chapters being longer or shorter... **

* * *

**_Sometimes, Sparks Fly_**

Jemma Simmons first heard of the genius from Scotland when she was 14 years old when her parents had taken her to the grand final of the British Science Fair. _It could be you next year_, they told her. _We'll just work harder and you'll be better, _they said.

The problem was Jemma wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be better. The universe was infinite and fascinating and for the young Brit it was a world of endless wonder waiting to be discovered but for her parents, Jemma's intelligence was a way to win awards and for recognition. Though she loved both her parents dearly, Jemma often found herself wondering just how much her parents would love her if she wasn't quite as smart, if her self-worth and merit was directly linked to her scientific recognition.

Noticing her parents stopping to congratulate and talk down to the parents of another finalist at the fair, Jemma took her leave walking in the opposite direction, looking at all the exhibits, asking questions and laughing when finalists tried talking down to her, as if she was too young to understand.

One of the finalists was a young Scottish boy who barely said two words to her when she asked how he'd managed to build a nuclear fusion reactor in his garage without his mother knowing. Despite his standoff-ish attitude, Jemma found his display to be one of the best at the fair and wasn't surprised to see that he's placed in third, receiving a handsome sum of money for his troubles and recognition from many local journals.

_That could have been you,_ her parents told her.

* * *

Leopold Fitz first saw Jemma Simmons at his second British Science Fair. He'd placed the year before as well as placing and winning the National Science and Engineering competition for the past three years. Fitz's first impression of her was that she was incredibly pretty but that meant nothing to him when she started speaking. This little petite thing before him with her braids and neat dress was possibly the smartest girl he'd ever met.

She understood his reactor, what it did and how it worked which was more than he could say for anyone back home in Scotland; she even tried to get him to talk to her about her ideas for improvements but Fitz couldn't talk.

Jemma Simmons was incredible and pretty and he was just little Leo from Glasgow, entering as many competitions as he could to win for his mum, to help her out after his dad had died. He wasn't anything special, not like the physical embodiment of sunshine currently talking to him and so while Jemma Simmons spoke, Fitz desperately wracked his brains trying to think of something, _anything_, that would impress her.

But before he had the chance to show this girl that he was just as smart, she'd walked by and Leopold Fitz left the fair, catching the train home with his mum, thinking of all the things he could have said, should have said and didn't say.

_Hello, I'm Fitz._

_You're incredible. _

_Thank you. _

* * *

By the age of sixteen Jemma Simmons had finally made it as a finalist for the British Science Fair with her microbes that 'ate' plastic trash as her parents explained to anyone walking by. Despite constantly trying to explain that the microbes didn't actually eat anything, they merely helped to speed up the degradation of plastic waste, no one seemed to hear the young teen.

_Isn't she clever?_ Her parents asked.

_Isn't this wonderful?_ They crooned.

Listening to her parents gush to anyone who would listen wasn't Jemma's idea of fun and so, without thinking, the young scientist took her leave to wander from exhibit to exhibit, fascinated with the ideas and brilliance on display before her. Robotics, medical breakthroughs, feat of engineering, hypotheses to be tested and ideas to be expanded on, everywhere Jemma looked there was something new and excited just begging to be looked at.

Taking a left at one of the stands, Jemma stumbled across an exhibit claiming to have found a new way to assist in helping the deaf understand, by attaching vibrating fingers to the tips of ones fingers.

"That's incredible!"

"I know," a voice spoke up from behind her.

"Sorry, I was just looking and- you're that boy!" Jemma called out, recognizing the lanky teen before her. He may have grown taller but she remembered the mass of curls and the blue eyes of the Scot.

"Do I know you?"

"Well, no, not quite. I saw your exhibit a few years ago. About the nuclear fusion reactor?"

"Oh, thanks," he nodded, moving past her to stand by his work.

Upset with his apparent rudeness, Jemma opened her mouth to let the teen know exactly what she thought of his behavior when she heard her mother calling for her.

"There you are!" Mrs. Landon-Simmons cried, grasping her daughters arm, "I've been looking everywhere for you. Your father found a reporter that want to talk to you about your microbes!"

"I'm sorry mum but I just wanted to see the other ideas-"

"The other ideas aren't going to win, no offense dear," Jemma's mother smiled at the Scottish boy, no warmth behind her eyes, "Now get back to that stall before the reporter leaves."

"But mum-"

"Jemma Simmons, now," the woman warned, pulling Jemma along behind her and away from the Scottish boy.

* * *

Recognizing the name, Fitz called out to the girl begin frog-marched away, "I saw your project!"

"You did," Jemma asked, turning around and flashing Fitz with the brightest smile he'd ever seen.

"Yeah, it was pretty good but you're going to need a way to deliver the microbes," Fitz trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know, I haven't got it all worked out yet. How would you go about creating a dispersal mechanism?"

"He would mind his own business and so should you," the girl's mother hissed, pulling Jemma away from him before he had a chance to really talk to her. The truth was Fitz had a few ideas that could have helped, ideas that no one else had tried before. Ideas that would have impressed her.

_Maybe next time,_ he thought.

_Definitely next time. _

* * *

Fitz had heard talk that Jemma Simmons would be attending the finals of the fair and when he saw he name confirmed as a finalist, the young Scot began working overtime to perfect his invention in the hopes of impressing her. It wasn't that he had a crush on her like his mum thought, though he wouldn't deny that she was incredibly pretty, no, Leopold Fitz recognized Jemma for her mind and wanted her to recognize him for his genius too.

So when September finally rolled around and the finals were underway, Fitz couldn't help waiting and watching for Jemma to come by, wanting to show her first hand his latest invention; if he couldn't impress her in words then this was the next best thing.

Finally spotting the girl he'd spent so long thinking about, Leopold smiled.

_This is it_, he thought.

Setting up the super-capacitor and picking up the smartphone it was connected to, Fitz began his speech, the speech he'd rehearsed in the bathroom mirror more times than he'd like to think about. As the presentation went on, his nerves slipped away all thanks to the pretty girl in the neat dress with the perfect braids in the front row smiling up at him.

Preparing himself for the grand finale, to fully charge the smartphone in less than 30 seconds, Fitz couldn't help but look back to where he knew Jemma was standing and smile at her.

* * *

Jemma couldn't believe that the boy before her was the same awkward teen she had met the year before. Now introduced to her as Leo Fitz, Jemma couldn't help smiling, seeing the boy beaming at her and winking at her once during his presentation making her blush.

Three years ago, Jemma would have sworn that Leo hated her but now he seemed like a different person, so happy and full of energy as he began building up to his final demonstration.

"And so," he concluded, "When I plug in this charger, the super-capacitor will have this phone charged in less than 30 seconds. Ready?" He asked the small audience, grinning at the response he was receiving.

Watching as Leo set a timer on the interactive screen behind him for thirty seconds exactly, Jemma stood on her tip-toes, eager to keep the teen in her sights. Waiting as he set up the cables and began fiddling and fussing over them, Jemma realized that something was wrong. Leo tried to cover it up with false bravado and before she had a change to frown, the young inventor turned around gesturing the phone to the crowd and flipping a switch.

The timer began counting down.

The audience cheered.

The air filled with the smell of burning flesh.

First aiders and event personnel began jumping on to the raised platform as Leo's body began seizing; one attempted to pry the device out of his hand while another tried shutting down the machine.

Eventually, the super-capacitor gave up in a shower of sparks and the crowd that had gathered during the commotion waited for confirmation that the boy was okay but Jemma knew, without asking, that it was too late.

Leo Fitz, the inventor from Scotland was dead

* * *

**A/N2: I'm not sure why but my headcannon is that while Jemma's parents do love her, they were driven and wanted their daughter to succeed making them seem cold to her. It's an unpopular opinion but that's just how I imagine them... **

**You're probably starting to see a pattern here...**


	4. The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

**A/N: I am so sorry for this one. This is the idea that sparked the entire story, I travel a lot and one of my favourite things to do while travelling is "People Watching". Anyway, while commuting from London to Sheffield I saw a woman and my imagination ran away from me. **

**I'm actually posting this chapter from a train, going travelling for a few days so updates may be a little slow, sorry! **

**Enjoy...**

* * *

**4 - _The Light At The End Of The Tunnel_**

Tuesdays were always busy for Jemma Simmons, running from the bus station, grabbing a quick drink and whatever sandwich was available from the vendors before jumping on the 11:05 train home. Passing through ticket barriers and running through crowds, Jemma silently cursed her editor for giving her lead on the article about the new Stark labs being opened up in London and herself for not going to the gym more often.

Seeing the train doors open ahead of her, Jemma ignored the stitch forming in her side and sped up, leaping from the platform and onto the train just as the final boarding whistle sounded.

Pausing to catch her breath, Jemma watched as the doors closed slowly and the train finally pulled away from the platform, barely listening to the conductor's announcements. Instead, closing her eyes, Jemma stood in the aisle holding onto a chair for balance, taking a moment to just stop and listen to the sounds of the carriage rattling along the tracks and the quiet conversations taking place around her.

"You might want to sit down, Miss," a voice called from behind, making Jemma jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, jus' wondered if you were plannin' on standing for the whole journey; it's a long way to… Wherever you're goin'," the man laughed.

Taking a quick note of his appearance, Jemma realized that the gent joking in front of her was the conductor, "Sorry, I didn't realize I'd been standing for so long," she apologized, rushing to find her ticket. Patting down pockets and looking through her bag, Jemma began to panic, worried that she'd lost the ticket on her mad dash through the station when she spotted the little orange slip under her notebook.

"Here you are, sorry about that," brandishing her ticket to the conductor, Jemma started to close her bag, eyes already searching for a seat.

"No need to keep apologizin' to me. You're goin' to Sheffield? You know you'll have to change at-"

"At Doncaster, yes, I know," Jemma interrupted, the long journey home ingrained in her memory.

"Well then, here you go, have a nice journey," the conductor nodded, stamping her ticket and passing the used slip back to her.

"Thank you, Leopold," Jemma smiled, reading the small nametag on the conductor's waistcoat before moving past him to sit down in free window seat.

* * *

Three Tuesdays later and Jemma found herself sitting at a table seat, waiting for the conductor to come back her way. Wiping her hands on her jeans, Jemma tried to control her breathing and get her nerves under control.

"Do you want to sit down?" Jemma blurted out as Leopold walked past her seat. "You've been through all the carriages and the next stop isn't for a while yet and it sounds silly, I'm sorry-"

"I thought I told you to stop apologizin' to me?" Leopold laughed as he sat down across the table from Jemma. "What are you writin'?"

"Excuse me?"

"You were writin', you're always writin'."

"What do you mean?"

"I've noticed you. In a totally non-creepy way; there's no way to say that without soundin' like a stalker is there?" Leopold babbled nervously.

"I guess not," Jemma laughed.

"You're always writin' though, every time I see you you're scribblin' away in that little notebook of yours," picking up the small book but not opening it, Leopold looked at Jemma, cocking his head, "What's in here then? Bakin' recipes? Plans for world domination?"

"Poetry, actually."

"Poetry?"

"Yes, poetry."

"Not to sound like a broken record here but why poetry?"

"Why not poetry?" Jemma countered, "I'm a writer. Not a very good one but I'm trying and that's where I keep all my ideas. All the lines I don't want and what I do want, everything. I write it all down so I can come back to it."

"Ah, okay but why d'you say you're not good at it?" Leopold asked, leaning forward.

"Because I do."

"But that's not an answer."

"I haven't been published," Jemma sighed, "I've been sending out my work for years and all I have to show for it is fourteen rejection letters, all addressed to 'Jemma Simmons'."

"But that doesn't mean you're no good; that just means that it's not ready yet. Don't give up on it, Jemma Simmons." Leopold smiled, standing and leaving as the automatic announcement system warned that the next stop was approaching.

* * *

"No, that's not right," Jemma mumbled, furiously crossing out sections in her notebook before rewriting them, pen flying across the page in loops and lines.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Hmm, oh! Leopold, of course not!" Jemma smiled as the conductor sat down in front of her.

"Should I even ask?" Gesturing to her closed her notebook.

"Probably not."

"Well then, let's talk about somethin' else. Erm, why do you go to Sheffield so often?"

"I'm actually _from_ Sheffield."

"Okay then, why do you go to London so often," Leopold laughed, playing with the edges of the old notebook still on the table.

"For work, I'm a journalist. Well, I'm an apprentice actually but at the moment I feel more like a glorified errand girl," Jemma sighed.

"Why?"

"My boss, Melinda, said I was in charge of writing a series of articles on the new Stark labs in London but she has one of the senior journalist's micromanaging me. It feels like I'm just travelling up and down country getting all the research for _Skye's_ article," Jemma spat.

"So you're pissed at whom exactly? This Skye person or Melinda?"

"I don't know, both of them?"

"Are you sure about that? Maybe you're jus' scared that your article isn't good enough," Leopold sighed, folding his arms on the table.

"And what's that supposed to mean?!"

"I jus'- Look, how many articles have you had printed?"

"Two."

"And Skye? How many times has his work been used?"

"I don't know, a lot. _She_ is in pretty much every magazine but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Prob'ly nothin' but I've been watchin' you, you're no shrinkin' violet, Jemma Simmons. You're aggressive and assertive and if you really wanted to write the articles on your own then you wouldn't let anyone stop you. Maybe you're jus' scared to put your name to it in case it doesn't do well or, should I say, get rejected?" Leopold finished with a pointed look, spinning Jemma's notebook around on the table.

"But what if-"

"You can talk about the shoulda, woulda coulda's all day but you're never going to know what the endin' looks like until you start somethin', are you? Worst thing that can happen is you write a bad article; you'll learn from it, you'll get better and you'll try again."

* * *

"I did it!" Jemma cried out upon spotting Leopold coming towards her.

"Did what?"

"Just look," Jemma insisted, thrusting a magazine towards the Scot. "Page nine, bottom half. Look that's-"

"That's your name!

"It's my name!" Jemma echoed, smile splitting her face as she threw her arms around Leopold.

Wasting no time, Leopold wrapped his arms tightly around the journalist, lifting her slightly and swaying as the train began moving, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of apples and cinnamon. The two stayed in this position until coming to a bump on the tracks, jolting them both back to reality.

"I would love to stay here with you but I have to go. Tickets to check and all that..." Leopold trailed off.

"Yes, of course sorry," Jemma apologized, pulling out a battered ticket from her back pocket for Leopold to mark.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, I want to read this," he smiled, tapping Jemma on the head lightly with the rolled up magazine.

* * *

"D'you enjoy it?" Leopold asked, coming back down the aisle and sitting across from Jemma at the table seat as was their tradition.

"Enjoy what?" she asked, pulling out her ticket and waiting for it to be marked.

"All the travellin', every week without fail I see you and that bag of yours on the train. Not that I don't enjoy seein' you, it's prob'ly the highlight of my week, but don't you jus' want to stop in once place?"

"I don't mind it too much, I get to work on something that I love and I get to see you," Jemma offered, smiling shyly at Leopold's compliment.

"But doesn't it bother your family or boyfriend?" Leopold choked out, managing to avoid stuttering as he asked.

"No boyfriend to be bothered by it. What about you, doesn't your _girlfriend_ mind you travelling around on trains all day?"

"No girlfriend."

"Well then what about your boyfriend?" Jemma asked, laughing as Leopold went bright red, stammering his way through his indignation.

"Touché" he conceded as Jemma's laughter slowly subsided. "To be fair though, you're beautiful; you can't blame me for thinkin' that there'd be someone waiting for you."

"I, um, thank you," looking down, Jemma felt the tips of her ears and cheeks begin to burn, a blush spreading across her face at Leopold's forward compliment.

"Sorry, I didn't want to embarrass you. I jus'-"

"Its fine, I'm just not used to, well, _that._"

"Not used to what?" he asked, fiddling with the old notebook as he watched Jemma slowly look up.

"Compliments, things like that. I'm not really used to that. Sorry."

"Jemma Simmons, I swear if you apologize to me one more time I'm going to ban you from this train! You're smart, beautiful and talented but you apologize far too often," Leopold cried out, reaching out to grab one of Jemma's hands, starling her into looking at him fully.

Taking a moment to let Leopold's word sink in, Jemma found herself studying the conductors face, looking for a sign that he was joking. However, finding nothing but sincerity in his face she began to notice the way his eyes seemed to shine or the way his short hair curled ever so slightly or how his shirt sleeves seemed to be permanently rolled up.

"What are you lookin' at?" Leopold asked quietly, brows furrowed slightly.

"You," Jemma sighed, speaking without thinking. "I mean, I was just, I was thinking about you and what you said and I… Well…"

"What?"

"Are you flirting with me?" Jemma blurted out, almost instantly regretting the words.

"Am I that bad at it?" Leopold asked, shaking his head, smiling slightly.

"So you _are_ flirting with me?"

"I'm tryin'. Not very well it seems though," he sighed, pulling his hand away from Jemma's to play with the notebook as he tried to find the words. "I've seen you for one hour every week for four months now and you're amazin'. You're sincere and smart and I know that in the grand scheme of thing that we haven't known each other for very long but I like you a lot."

Pausing, Jemma smiled, shifting in her seat so that her face was within Leopold's line of vision, "I like you too. A lot."

"You do?"

"Yes," she laughed at Leopold's excitement.

"Wow, okay, I can work with this," he began rambling, his words coming faster as the automatic announcement system began warning of the approaching stop. "Be here next Tuesday, okay? I have a plan, Jemma Simmons, jus' be here."

"I will," she laughed, watching as Leopold rushed to the other end of the train, turning around to look at her once more, smiling, before he ran out of the carriage.

* * *

"Right then," Leopold announced, dropping a blue carrier bag onto the table in front of Jemma, "I thought about this and this is my plan: you and I have a date. Right here, right now."

"You want to have a date on the train?" Jemma asked, halfway caught between amusement and shock.

"Why not, this is our table now. You're always travellin' between here and there and I spend all my time workin' and I figured that we could try this, see if it works and if you want, we could do this again; somewhere a little more high class than an East Coast train," he trailed off, hands automatically playing with the handles of the carrier bag, nerves taking over.

Jemma was in awe of the amount of thought Leopold had put into the 'date' and so, taking pity on the poor conductor and his nerves she smiled. "You, Leopold, are one of the kindest, sweetest and most thoughtful men I have ever met. I would love to have this date with you."

"Great because I'm not sure what I'd have done if you'd said no," Leopold joke, sitting down and pulling out food containers, spreading a selection of over the counter bought sandwiches and pasta meals, crisps and fizzy drink as well as a few muffins from a coffee shop on a platform if the packing was correct. "I wasn't sure what you'd like so I kind of bought everythin'."

"This is wonderful, don't worry," Jemma assured, smiling as she took half a sandwich and offered Leopold the other half as he opened a can of Pepsi.

By the time half of the food had been consumed, the automatic announcement system sounded, alerting Jemma and Leopold that their date was almost over.

"So, same time next week?" Leopold asked, worried for Jemma's answer until he saw her smiling at him, tilting her head in a way he'd come to love.

"It would be my pleasure, I'll bring the food next time," she offered, standing up. Moving towards Leopold, Jemma moved to wrap he arms around him, feeling him reciprocate, pulling her closer. "I really enjoyed this," she whispered.

"Me too," Leopold sighed, pulling back slightly, eyes widening as Jemma moved closer, kissing his cheek, lips lingering slightly.

Nodding and grinning like a fool, Leopold walked backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off of Jemma for a moment knowing that when he managed to make his way back to the table she'd be gone.

Almost fourty minutes later when he finally returned to Jemma's table, Leopold was happy to see the table had been cleared of rubbish but his stomach dropped as he saw an all too familiar notebook wedged in between the seats. Realizing that Jemma must have accidentally dropped the small, leather-bound book, he picked it up, tucking it into the inside pocket of his waistcoat, looking forward to the look on her face as he returned the notebook to its rightful owner.

* * *

It was dark and leaving the train while it was raining probably wasn't Leopold's brightest idea but the signal light's weren't working and so someone had to get out and fix them.

As the rain beat down, soaking through Leopold's shirt all he could think of was the warm bed that would await him tomorrow morning and Jemma's smile as he returned her notebook to her. The journal had sat in his work bag since he found it and tomorrow he'd finally get to give it back and ask for nothing in return.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to another kiss," Leopold grumbled as he walked back to the train, feet slipping on the wooden boards in the track. "A proper kiss this time," he sighed, dreaming of Jemma Simmons and her lips as everything suddenly got brighter.

* * *

"Excuse me," Jemma called out, catching the attention of the elderly conductor, "Do you know where Leopold is? He's usually working on this train but I haven't seen him so…" she trailed off, pushing her hair behind her ear, hands subconsciously rising to rest by her throat.

"Leopold? He the Scottish one?" The conductor asked, brows furrowed as he rested against the seat in front of Jemma.

"Yes, yes, that's the one."

"Oh God, honey, I'm so sorry," the conductor sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. "There was an accident on the tracks last night. A conductor got out to fix a signal light while it was raining and it was dark and-"

"No," Jemma whispered, throat closing up as tears welled in her eyes.

"Leopold was hit by a train last night. It was fast though, it didn't hurt. I'm so, so sorry," the conductor apologized, walking away as Jemma's tears began to fall.

* * *

**A/N2: You can't say I didn't warn you for this one... **

**Please let me know what you thought, I love reading your comments and reactions and try to reply to every review I receive...**


	5. The Floor Was Cold, The Blood Was Warm

**A/N: This is possibly the longest chapter I've written for this story so far and I really enjoyed it.. ****I'm trying to incorporate the rest of the team into these new realities as much as I can. Let me know if you liked it because I definitely took a few liberties with them here. **

**Also, someone suggested that my characters were out of character the other day and I laughed. Each chapter is a different reality. There characters within them made different choices, took different paths and, in my opinion, the sum of our experiences makes us who we are. If these experiences are different then of course the characters will be different. At heart, they're the same people, the just might express themselves a little differently...**

**Oh, and for everyone who keeps asking if I have to kill Fitz in every chapter... This is a tale of two souls coming back to each other time and time again. How can Jemma and Fitz's energies find each other if I don't make one of them 'leave'?... **

* * *

**5 - _The Floor Was Cold But The Blood Was Warm_**

"Jemma? Jemma Simmons, is that you?" a voice called out from behind. Turning, Jemma was met with the face of a man she'd spent years trying to forget.

"Leopold Fitz, how are you?" she smiled, moving in to hug the Scot, sighing when she felt his arms wrap around her.

"I'm good, great actually, been travelling for a while," Leo answered, stepping back to take a good look at Jemma, "What about you? You look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you, I'm actually in town for a few days for a conference," she answered, watching Leo's face for a reaction.

Five years ago, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons had been best friends, studying medicine together and ready to take on the world and on the brink of something more when Leo's mother had fallen ill. The Scot had rushed home to Glasgow to take care of the elder Fitz, leaving Jemma without so much as a goodbye. For weeks, months, Jemma had waited to hear from Leo, for a call, email or a text and received nothing until one night, late in October, Leo finally called.

_I'm not coming back_, he told her.

_I need more than lecture halls and University and _this_._

_I think it'd be for the best if we just called this off._

Jemma had been heartbroken. For close to two years she'd harbored feelings for the man standing before her and just as she'd worked up the courage to tell him, he'd left, leaving her and their dreams behind. After Leo's cold rejection of her, Jemma had thrown herself into her studies, working harder than anyone else on the course, graduating with honors a full year earlier than expected, specializing as a trauma surgeon.

"That's cool," Leo smiled, "You stuck with the medical thing then?"

"Yes. I did," she forced out from behind a smile. "What about you, do you work at all?"

"I pick up jobs here and there," Leo laughed, "It's no doctorate but it suits me just fine."

"Well, I'm glad you're happy," Jemma spoke, noticing the open cashier window, eager to leave.

"Yeah, course. Well, good luck with everything. We should catch up if you have chance?"

"We'll see," she offered, leaving Leo, trying to forget how his shoulders and arms seemed fuller than they had back as students or how his accent had all but disappeared or the stubble gracing his jaw. Jemma was trying so hard to not notice all these changes that she failed to notice the two armed men storming into the bank until multiple shots were fired.

"E'rybody stop or we shoot!" One of the men cried out, raising his gun. "Now, you're all gonna go lay over there while we finish this, got it?"

The bank became a flurry of motion, people running or walking to the carpeted area indicated by the first gunman while Jemma realized that she couldn't move. Her knuckles had gone white and her breathing had become shallow as studied the two gunmen, noticing the cartoon masks the pair wore; the taller of the two disguised as clown while the first gunman strolled around the place with a Richard Nixon mask in place. The second gunman noticed her immobility and shaking his wrist, jolting the gun loosely held in his fist as he sauntered over to her. Jemma feared that her final moments were approaching until she felt an arm wrap around her waist, pulling her away and jolting her into movement.

"Dammit, Jem, jus' do as they say," Leo hissed, his accent becoming more prominent in his panic.

Not trusting her voice to work, Jemma simply nodded, head flying up and down as she all but fell to the floor, feeling more than seeing Leo drop down beside her. Groping wildly, searching for Leo's hand, Jemma barely listened to the gunmen, fear still coursing through her veins.

"Shit, we got a problem over here!" The second gunman called out to the first.

"Then fix it," 'Richard Nixon' called. Despite being the shorter of the two it seemed that he was in charge of the whole operation.

"But it a body," the clown hissed and Jemma watched out of the corner of her eyes as the first gunman went behind the tills to see the body.

"Dammit, looks like she's dyin'. That's gonna rain on our parade," 'Richard Nixon' sighed, walking back over to the group of hostages, boot print leaving a trail of blood behind him. "Any of you got any first aid trainin'?" he asked, kicking at the shoes of one of the men laying no more than 10 feet away from Jemma.

Upon hearing the question, Jemma's eyes widened and her breathing began to speed up as Leo reached out to grab her hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing slightly, silently begging her to calm down.

"I said," the gunman shouted, "we're needin' some medical assistance over here so will one of you kindly help us?"

Closing her eyes, praying that she wouldn't start hyperventilating, Jemma slowly began to sit up, ignoring Leo pulling at her arm, begging her not to.

"I can help you, I'm a doctor," Jemma whispered, watching the gunman tilt his head, eyes roaming up and down her body.

"And a pretty one too," 'Richard Nixon' sneered as Leo gripped on to her ankle.

"Jemma, please, don't-"

"I'm a doctor and I can help her," Jemma spoke over Leo, hoping to keep the tremor out of her voice, feeling her heart sink as Leo stood up beside her.

"I can help too, I'm, a, I'm a doctor," Leo moved so that he was standing in front of Jemma, straightening his shoulders and squaring off in front of the first gunman.

"Nice try kid," the gunman laughed, "But we only need one of you and she's a lot prettier than you are so sit down," 'Richard Nixon' said as he hit Leo on the side of the head with his gun, knocking the Scot to the floor in agony.

Taking a firm grasp on her upper arm, the gunman dragged her away from the other hostages, warning them not to move, but Jemma couldn't help not caring about the others cowering in fear. All the young doctor could focus on was Leo, the blood trailing down his forehead as his eyes bore into hers, mouthing over and over to her, b_e careful, Jem. _

"Here she is," 'Nixon' practically sang, throwing Jemma to the floor beside the heavily bleeding bank clerk. "Now fix her up all pretty or we're gonna have some problems, you understand?"

"Y-yes, I understand. I'm going to need gauze and some water and some cloth and-"

"Do I look like I carry that kinda thing on me, sweetheart?" 'Nixon' laughed before turning to the second gunman. "Get her what she needs and for love of God, boy, don't go shooting that thing again," he hissed, gesturing to the 'Clown's' gun with his own.

Watching as both gunmen left in opposite directions, Jemma turned to take a decent look at the woman before her; slightly older than herself, Asian, beautiful and bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound to the stomach.

"Right then," Jemma smiled, falling into her doctor persona, "Let's see if we can't do something to stop that bleeding. My name's Jemma, by the way-"

"I know," the bank clerk sighed, blood falling from her lips.

"I- excuse me?"

"Your name, I know it," the woman tried explaining, weakly lifting one hand to show a beaten and bloodied bank book.

"You were the woman at my till," she breathed, realization sinking in. "I'm so sorry, Melinda," Jemma said, reading the nametag that still shone upon the bank clerk's shirt.

"It's not your fault that this happened. It just did. I only have to hold on a little longer, I called the cops. Phil will be here soon," Melinda whispered, closing her eyes as the 'Clown' approached.

"Here," he warned, dropping the supplies in front of her before picking up his shotgun again and walking over to the other hostages.

Ripping open several packs of gauze, Jemma reached out to the woman before her. "Okay, Melinda, this is going to hurt so I'm sorry but you need to stay awake here. Keep talking to me. Who's Phil?" Jemma asked as she lifted the bank clerk's shirt, cleaning the area around the bullet wound.

"He's my, ah, he's my husband," Melinda hissed, eyes screwed shut in pain.

"Okay, when did you meet?"

"A, ah, a few years ago. We-we worked together."

"What did you do?" Jemma asked, eager to keep the other woman talking for as long as possible in an attempt to keep the bank clerk awake and aware.

"We were cops and, we went into a building and, ah, it went bad. I got shot grabbing a kid out of there and he would worry about me all the time," Melinda sighed, tears forming, desperate to escape. "He would worry about everything and anything, especially when I fell pregnant so I took a job in a bank."

"You were pregnant, you have a child?" Jemma asked, accepting that there was no exit wound for the bullet.

"Yes, one. A little girl. Skye," Melinda sighed, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin as Jemma probed the bullet hole once again.

"Okay, Melinda, I want you to tell me all about her in two minute but first I need you to listen to me. There is a bullet inside of you, okay? Now that's not good, we need to take that out quickly, do you understand?" Jemma asked, as Melinda screwed up her eyes, nodding. "Good, now I can get that out but it's going to hurt, I'm going to need some help so I need you to hold on for a minute, alright?"

Spotting Melinda's nodding Jemma took a deep breath and stood up; no longer hidden by the walls of the tills, Jemma now stood in full view of the hostages and the gunmen.

"What's wrong now?" 'Nixon' cried out, waving his gun around.

"I-I need help. I have to take a bullet out of this woman," Jemma replied, struggling to keep her voice even.

"And what am I supposed to do about that then?" the gunman retorted, pacing the floor.

"You could let her go," Jemma suggested, hesitantly, noticing the sounds of sirens outside for the first time.

"Or you could fix her like you promised!" 'Nixon roared, rushing over to where Jemma stood, gun raised. "Now, think of something else and fix her," the gunman growled, tracing the side of her face with his gun, the barrel scratching the skin lightly.

"Leo," Jemma whispered, looking past the gunman and noticing the Scot on the carpet looking positively apoplectic at the sight of the gunman anywhere near her. "Let Leo help me, we're both doctors, we can fix this," Jemma lied, eyes screwed shut as her heart rate rocketed and her breathing became shallow once more.

"Fine, lover boy," 'Nixon called out, stepping away from Jemma, "Your girlfriend needs you."

The words had left the gunman's mouth when Leo jumped up, running across the marble floor to where she stood, hands reaching out to touch her, desperate to pull her close.

"Now, you fix her or I'll just shoot you," 'Nixon' sighed, gesturing to Jemma with the gun as Leo tightened his grip on Jemma's arm ever so slightly. "No funny business now," the gunman laughed, walking away as Jemma sank to the floor.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Jemma, I-" Leo began bombarding the young doctor with questions before giving up and throwing his arms around her, crushing her against his chest as he buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. "Dammit Jem, I was terrified. Don't you ever do something so stupid like that again," Leo whispered, pulling away slightly to rest his hand on Jemma's cheek.

Lifting her own hand from where it was tangled in his hair, Jemma covered Leo's hand with her own, running her thumb over his knuckles. "I'm sorry but I had to," Jemma sighed. Opening her mouth to speak again, Jemma was interrupted by a rather wet sounding cough.

Pulling away, Jemma looked once again to Melinda, noticing Leo do the same and seeing his eyes flicker across the wound coming to the same conclusions she had. He may have dropped out of medical school but Leo Fitz was possibly one of the brightest students the school had ever seen.

"Do you have a knife?" Leo asked, knowing what was about to happen.

"Not right now," Jemma sighed, mind working at a million miles a minute, trying to think of ways around their latest problem until Melinda opened her eyes again.

"Under my till… Station four… Box cutter on the second shelf," the bank clerk rasped out, eyes falling rapidly.

"Okay, that's brilliant Melinda. This is Leo, he's my friend and he's going to help, okay?" Jemma asked, waiting for the other woman to nod as Leo crawled away to the spot Melinda had specified. "Now, we're going to have to cut you open a little for this, the bullet seems pretty close to the surface but we still need to grab it, alright?"

"Got it," Melinda signed as Leo came back with the short and sharp knife, pouring alcohol based hand sanitizer over the blade.

"Now, I need you to stay awake for this. Tell me about your daughter, tell me about Skye," Jemma asked, pouring a liberal amount of hand sanitizer over her own hands, wrists and forearms, watching as Leo did the same.

"She's beautiful. So funny and ah! Oh God," Melinda cried out in pain as Jemma began cutting. Moving forward, Leo held Melinda down and still with one arm while grasping her hand with the other.

"Squeeze my hand, Melinda. Keep squeezing it when it hurts. It's only bones, they'll heal," Leo reassured the bank clerk, "Now keep telling me about this kid. Is she clever?"

"Yes! Yes she's clever. Oh God, she'd brilliant and I- ah- she likes to play pranks on her father and- ah!" Melinda screamed as Jemma extended one of the cuts, using her fingers to feel for the small metal round that she knew had to be there.

"You're doing great right now Melinda, just a little bit more for me, what about your husband?" Jemma asked, trying to keep the bank clerk calm, brushing the hair away from her forehead with back of one hand.

"He's incredible. He's smart and loyal and doesn't know how to give up on anything other than cleaning. He, uh, he's a hero. He's my hero," Melinda smiled, her breathing speeding up as Jemma finally managed to get a hold of the large round bullet. Ignoring everything but the bullet, Jemma felt the noise of the gunmen screaming and shouting at each other slip away, the sounds and flashing from the cars outside the bank, Leo's constant encouragement.

Everything faded away until the only things Jemma could focus on was the cold and hard floor, the dark, warm blood soaking through her jeans and the bullet clasped tightly in her hand as Melinda's head fell back in relief.

"You did it," Leo smiled, pride radiating off of him in waves.

"So she did," 'Nixon' cooed, "Now get her up," he snarled, gesturing to Melinda with his gun. "We made a deal with the cops outside. Apparently this here is the chief's wife, small world, huh?" 'Nixon' laughed as the other gunman looked between them and the door.

"John, they're here," the clown dressed gunman called out, nervously pacing as two EMT's stood by the door, holding a stretcher.

"Right then, let them in!" 'Nixon' called out, watching the paramedics carefully as they entered the bank and strapped Melinda onto the stretcher as Jemma relayed as much medical information as possible.

"Now then boys, I think you got what you came for," 'Nixon' shouted, waiting for the medics to leave, only starting to relax when they neared the door.

Spotting a small and bloodied picture on the floor, Jemma immediately recognized a young Melinda smiling beside an older man in official police blues as well as an energetic two year old beaming up at the man in the picture. Knowing that the picture had to have been important for Melinda to have held onto it throughout her ordeal, Jemma picked up the small scrap.

"Wait," she called out, "You forgot something," Jemma shouted, rushing forwards to deliver the picture to its owner, not noticing the second gunman raise his gun.

Leo, however, hadn't been able to take his eyes off of Jemma since the paramedics had entered the building and so, upon seeing the shotgun being raised in Jemma's direction, Leo didn't think twice before rushing into motion.

* * *

The official reports would claim that it was a tactical error, that what was believed to be a threat was greatly mistaken. The news stations would say that the sniper had taken 'independent action' and that it was a tragedy for all involved. The police would tell her that it was a 'freak accident' and assure her that they were 'looking into it' while the internet cried out about cover-ups and injustice.

But to Jemma, they were just words; words that meant nothing to her. All she knew was that the floor was cold but his blood was oh so warm as it poured out, rushing underneath her hands and between her fingers, oblivious to her pleas.

_Please come back to me. _

_I need you. _

_Please._

* * *

**A/N2: So, please let me know what you think, I hope you're all enjoying this so far. I'm wanting to have this finished before season two starts airing as I have an idea for my final chapter. There are still about five more to come and your reviews really help encourage me to keep up with this, thank you! **

**Also, the gunmen were supposed to be nameless characters of my own creation but they suddenly started to take on a life of their own. Let me know if they remind you of anyone, no points or prizes for correct guesses but there may be a shout out involved... **


	6. She Was Sunshine And Starlight

**A/N: Here we are again with yet another installment, I hope you'll like this one, it's a little different. One of the reviews I got for the last chapter mentioned how there wasn't a great deal of romance between Fitz and Simmons so far and that's intentional. These two have been friends for so long that their friendship is practically a defining feature in their personalities, that's why their frienship takes precedence to any romantic undertones...**

* * *

_**6 - She Was Sunshine And Starlight...**_

"Mum, I'll be fine. I promise, yes, now I have to go, yeah? Okay, bye mum."

Sighing and hanging up the phone, 17 year old Leopold Fitz followed the receptionist, paying no attention to her words of the awful, broad accent behind them. _Honestly, anyone would think attending college was rocket science_, Leo thought to himself, watching as the woman before him waddled around them small office, pulling out papers and folders.

After the fourth round of 'sign here' and 'initials here', Leo was about ready to give up. Not to mention the overpowering scent of vanilla and the way that the receptionist was instant on calling him 'cock'; there was only so much he could take.

"Well then, cock, looks like were done 'ere. You want me to show you to your class?" The receptionist asked, pulling down a skirt that looked like it belonged in the 80s.

"No, thank you. I'm sure I'll be fine," Fitz assured, picking up his backpack, haphazardly throwing the printouts in and moving backwards slowly. "Thank you for everythin' but I'll be goin'."

All but running down the corridor to get away from the strange scent, Leo found himself truly lost.

"It's not my fault every bloody hallway looks the same," Leo grumbled, still bitter about moving from his childhood home in Glasgow to the center of Sheffield. Logically, it was the best move, Leo had stopped attending his classes at the local Sixth Form, choosing instead to stay at home and take care of his mother who'd fallen ill. When the truant officers called and started throwing around words like 'law suit' and large fines' his aunt had stepped up, offering to take the pair in.

Rita McGowan had been a carer for as long as Fitz could remember, she'd only given up when her hips had started to bother her and couldn't stand around like she used to. The new arrangement worked well, Sandra Fitz stayed in the spare bedroom downstairs, next door to Rita while the basement had been converted into a bedroom for Fitz. The two sisters talked and laughed all day while Fitz attended a college nearby and spent half his time worrying about his mother and the other half missing his friends back in Scotland.

Fitz was so caught up in his musings that he failed to notice the other student in front of him.

"Oi, watch where you're walking!" the voice shouted as a rather large set of hands pushed Fitz back.

"Sorry, I was jus' lookin' at this map an'-"

"Look, I don't care, okay? Just stay the hell away, got it?"

"Yeah, sure," Fitz mumbled, backing away as a hand reached out to grab him by the strap of his backpack.

"I can't hear you," the man sneered, leaning down to stand face-to-face with Fitz, allowing the Scot to note the sparse coating of hair across his aggressor's face that he was probably trying to pass of as a beard and the unmistakable scent of too much cheap cologne.

"Oh leave him alone, Grant. He didn't do anything so stop acting like a bloody arse!" another voice called out from a set of stairs nearby. Standing above him, with the light shining through the windows, Fitz would have sworn he'd seen an angel. With hair as red as a fire engine and a temper that seemed to match, his savior strutted down the steps, hips swaying and boots pounding towards the man who had been identified as Grant before standing in front of him.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" the woman asked, head tilted and hip cocked.

"Not at all, your highness," Ward mocked, bowing as he walked away slowly, laughing.

"Sorry about that," the woman apologized, "Grant used to be a decent person until someone stuck a bloody hedgehog up his arse. Now he's all swagger and bravado and- sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Jus' a tad," Fitz smiled, overjoyed to find someone who actually sounded like they spoke English.

"I'm Jemma, by the way. Jemma Simmons," the girl before him spoke, thrusting out a hand that he wasn't sure if he was supposed to shake or kiss.

"Yeah and I'm, um Fitz. Well, Leo really but only my mum calls me that so jus' Fitz is fine," Fitz babbled, readjusting his back pack over one shoulder as he shook Jemma's hand.

"Well then, _Just Fitz_, what are you doing wandering the hallways?"

"I have a class, or at leas' I think I do but this timetable's less than useless and this map's hopeless!"

"Give it here," Jemma sighed, snatching the scraps of paper and lifting them close to her face, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. "Well, the good news is that you were right, you did have a class but it started twenty minutes ago, I wouldn't bother turning up this late. You've got a free period after that though. You can come sit with me in the cafeteria if you want?"

"Yeah, that sounds ideal, thank you," Leo smiled, taking the map and timetable from Jemma and throwing them back in his bag.

After sitting at one of the tables nearby and going through his timetable, Jemma had gotten up without warning and walked away which, surprisingly, didn't worry him as much as it should have done.

"Here you go," Jemma announced, thrusting a Styrofoam cup towards him, "I got you tea. Is that okay?"

"Tea's fine but you didn't have to buy me anything," Fitz began; flustered that this girl he'd only just met had started buying him things.

"Relax, she didn't pay for it. It's free, there's a little trolley for it over there," a voice laughed from behind, lightly slapping him on the back before sitting next to Jemma, throwing an arm around her. "Babe, what have I told you about adopting strays?"

"That you love it," Jemma beamed, moving closer to the newcomer and resting her head on his shoulder. "Trip, this is Just Fitz, Fitz, this is Antione Benjamin Triplett-"

"The second."

"The second, sorry," Jemma smiled.

"So, Fitz, what are you here for?" Trip asked, leaning forward.

"I, um- sorry?" Fitz stumbled, thrown off by the easy camaraderie between Jemma and Triplett.

"What classes are you taking?" Jemma explained, taking a sip of her tea and throwing several sugar packets on the table which Fitz quickly began pouring in his drink.

"I'm takin' chemistry, IT an' physics," Fitz spoke, adding his fourth sugar packet to his tea, stirring it in, tasting it and repeating the whole process.

"Chemistry, huh? Looks like you've found a friend then," Trip laughed, nudging Jemma affectionately.

"I hope so," Jemma smiled, reaching out to take a sugar packet only to rip it open, letting the granules fall all across the table.

The trio talked for the next forty minutes, Trip making jokes and Fitz slowly starting to respond to them while Jemma just watched the two, occasionally joining in with the conversation, drawing random patterns with her finger through the sugar.

* * *

"So what did you want to show me?" Fitz called out, standing in the empty auditorium and rubbing his hands, trying to fight off the cold soaking down to his bones. Jemma had text him that morning, asking him to come straight to the stage instead of the cafeteria during their shared free first period.

"I screwed up," Jemma called out, watching from the edges of the stage as Fitz turned round, searching for her.

"I don't get it, what d'you do wrong?"

"This," Jemma sighed taking a step forward and pulling off her hat, letting her hair fall down free across her shoulders. Moving up the few steps toward the stage, Fitz took in the sight before him. Gone was the electric blue hair that had replaced the bright red Jemma had become bored of.

"You dyed it," Fitz whispered, his hand reaching out to wrap around a strand of chocolate brown hair. "It looks, um-"

"It looks ridiculous Fitz, don't lie," Jemma huffed, lips forming a pout that Fitz couldn't drag his eyes away from.

"No, it- it looks natural. _Normal_," Fitz joked, pleased to see Jemma starting to smile. "Why d'you change it though?" Fitz asked, absentmindedly running his fingers through Jemma's hair, enjoying the feel of it falling across his knuckles.

"I don't know, it was time for a change I guess," Jemma sighed, shaking her shoulders.

Moving away from Fitz, Jemma moved to sit down on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs and waiting for Fitz to sit down beside her. For a while, the pair sat in comfortable silence with Jemma resting her head on Fitz's shoulder and he hesitantly resting his head on top of hers.

"I'm not even sure why I started dying it to start with," Jemma offered, breaking the silence.

"You must have had a reason though," Fitz probed.

"I don't know, it- it annoyed my parents. I just wanted them to see more than some perfect little girl that they'd hatched," Jemma hissed and Fitz left it. He knew that talking to Jemma was a sore subject; they only wanted what was best for their daughter but pushed her too hard and Jemma just pushed back in any way she could. "I'm not even sure that Trip knows what color it used to be," Jemma laughed, nuzzling against Fitz's shoulder.

"What was it?"

"Auburn, I think," Jemma sighed before standing and walking away as she was prone to do. Understanding this to mean that the subject was to be dropped, Fitz stood up and followed Jemma as they met up with Trip in the cafeteria.

* * *

The trio sat on the floor in the library, studying for the exams due to take place straight after the winter break. Exams that would, potentially, decide whether or not they were admitted to University.

"What if I just gave up and became a prostitute?" Jemma asked, half joking as she lay sprawled with her head in Trip's lap and her legs dangling across Fitz's outstretched legs.

"You? Jemma, babe-"

"I could be good at it," Jemma defended herself, interrupting Trip. "What do you think, Fitz? You'd pay for me, wouldn't you?" she asked, batting her eyelids and sitting up.

"Um, yeah. You're attractive, why not?" Fitz stammered, praying to a God he didn't believe in that his cheeks hadn't started turning red.

"Aww, thank you, that was almost a compliment," Jemma laughed, throwing her head back as she wrapped her arms around Fitz's neck.

Snaking his own arm around Jemma's midsection, Fitz couldn't help but smile at being so near to Jemma. Though he'd only known her for three months he'd become very close to both Jemma and Trip, finding both of them to be excellent friend but when it came to Jemma, it was more. She lit up rooms like she was a sky full of stars on her own. She was sunshine and starlight and everything else was so much better than he deserved.

"Oi, save it will you? Some of us are trying to study in here!" Grant shouted at the trio before turning back around to flirt with some girl fawning over him.

"Can you believe that guy?" Trip asked, miming gagging as the girl beside Grant let out a particularly shrill giggling while readjusting a flower in her hair.

"Tell me about it, what do these mindless bimbos even see in him?" Fitz asked, sighing as he picked his book back up, not noticing Trip motioning for him to stop. "He's got the personality of a porcupine and the looks of a- why are you looking at me like that?" Fitz asked, finally looking up at Trip.

"I dated him," Jemma whispered from her spot in Fitz's lap, slowly pulling off her reading glasses. "It was brief and I regretted it almost instantly but I guess you're right, a girl must be pretty dumb to go for a guy like that," shifting so that she sat on her own, Jemma started reaching for her bags and books, intending to leave.

Realizing his mistake, Fitz panicked. Reaching out quickly he grabbed onto Jemma's wrist, pulling her back towards him. "Jemma Simmons, you are, without a doubt, the smartest person I have ever met. I'm an idiot, okay? You made a mistake, so what?"

"_Try again. Fail again. Fail better_," Trip spoke up from behind the two, reaching out to hold onto Jemma's free hand and Fitz held the other, periodically rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin of her wrist.

"Did you just quote Beckett at me?" Jemma laughed, letting go of Fitz's hand to push Trip.

* * *

"Come here, you!" Jemma cried out, tackling Trip in a bear hug that lasted long enough to make Fitz feel awkward. "I'm going to miss you, you'd better call me. And bring me back presents!"

"Relax babe, I'm only going to be gone for a week," Trip explained, trying to calm down the bundle of energy standing before him.

"I know but you'll be gone for Christmas, I just wanted us to be together, all of us," Jemma complained, readjusting her Santa hat and pulling her coat tighter around herself.

"You still have Fitz though," Trip reminded her, throwing an arm around the Scot, brushing the odd snowflake out of his hair. "We'll get together when we get back and just have a movie night and cuddle, that sound good?"

"It'll do," Jemma sighed, looking toward Fitz.

"Why're you both lookin' at me?"

"Are you in or not?" Jemma asked.

"For a movie night?" Trip added, his question overlapping with Jemma's.

"Are you sure you want me there? I mean-"

"Of course we want you there," Trip smiled, pulling him closer. "Now, I really have to go, I'll text you before I get on the plane?" Trip offered, watching as Jemma smiled at the idea.

"You'd better and here," Jemma paused, thrusting a badly wrapped box towards the taller man. "It's your Christmas gift but you can open it now I guess. I got you one too," Jemma added, passing a box to Fitz.

Trip wasted no time in ripping the paper away from the box whereas Fitz took his time. Eventually the two men opened their boxes, pulling out silver charms hung on leather cords.

"They're bracelets. Or a necklace if you really want," Jemma offered pulling her own charm out from beneath her shirt. "They're all different molecules with meanings and stuff and so I thought you'd like them," Jemma trailed off, almost shyly, not looking at Fitz.

"What's mine say then?" Trip asked impatiently, struggling to tie the string with his teeth.

"It's a serotonin molecule, signifies happiness," Fitz offered, struggling to wrap his mind around Jemma's gift.

"Cool, what about yours?"

"Mine's acetylcholine. It's a chemical released during dreams and such," Jemma interrupted.

Just as Trip was about to ask about Fitz's charm, a car horn blared from outside.

"And that will be my family. I've got to go, my grandpa's not exactly the most patient man," Trip joked, moving in for one last round of hugs before running out to the car.

"Jemma, my charm…" Fitz whispered, lifting up the cord.

"You don't really need me to explain, do you?" Jemma asked, her voice low.

"It's a dopamine molecule, right?"

"You know that it is."

"So you know what that means, right?"

"Of course I do, Fitz, now will you just accept it?"

"An' you're sure this wasn't meant for Trip?" Fitz asked, letting out the question that had been plaguing him.

"Why on Earth would you think that?" Jemma sighed, incredulous.

"Well, he's your boyfriend, isn't he?"

Cocking her head, smiling, Jemma could help the laughter that began to bubble up. "Trip? My boyfriend? God no, Fitz, I'm not his type."

"But, I thought, you two are-" Fitz stammered, struggling to get out a full sentence in his confusion.

"Fitz," Jemma said, struggling to keep a straight face as she placed a hand on each of his shoulders, "Trip's _gay_. Has been as long as I've known him. He had a crush on you, for God sakes!"

"So you're not in love with him?" Fitz asked, desperate to hear Jemma say it.

"No. I'm not. I may love Trip like a brother but I'm not _in_ love with him."

"Right, okay. That's, um. Good," Fitz grinned, knowing that he made no sense but not caring in the slightest. Jemma was perfection. She was sunshine and starlight and as unique as a snowflake and she loved him. Little old Leopold Fitz from Scotland. Leopold Fitz who couldn't make toast to save his life but could build a toaster from scratch without being asked. Leopold Fitz who wore ties and shirts and didn't fit in anywhere and didn't care. Leopold Fitz who had been falling harder and harder for Jemma since he first saw that red-headed angel on the steps all those months ago.

Reaching forwards, cupping Jemma's face, Fitz finally gave in and kissed Jemma Simmons.

Lips moving in sync and hands tangled in her hair, this was nothing like the half-hearted, chaste, on-the-cheek kiss that they'd shared before. Tilting his head slightly and hearing Jemma moan as his tongue traced her upper lip, Fitz knew that he should pull back before he went too far.

Ignoring the falling snow around him, all Fitz could focus on was the feeling of frozen fingertips brushing against his jaw and the way his hands seemed to rest perfectly on the swell of her hips.

"Jemma," Fitz sighed, eyes half open and nose brushing against Jemma's.

"Mm-hmm."

"Was that a bad idea?"

"Hell no," Jemma smiled, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss Fitz once again, only pulling away when breathing became problematic. "I've been wanting you to do that for a while," Jemma whispered, taking the small charm from Fitz's hand.

"You should have told me then. Bloody hell, Jemma, I've wanted to kiss you since I met you," Fitz growled, watching as Jemma tied the simple charm to his wrist, smiling at its meaning.

_Dopamine. Love._

"Good, because I expect more of that," Jemma laughed, leaning in to kiss Fitz once again, pouting as he pulled away.

"You looo-ve me, you want to kiii-iisss me," Fitz sang walking away, remembering the song from song chick flick he'd watched with Trip and Jemma.

"Fitz, stop it."

"You waaaa-aaaant me," he sang louder, not feeling the edge of the curb thanks to the snow piled up by the pathways.

"FITZ, STOP!" Jemma screamed, watching in horror as a car came flying towards Fitz, spinning on the ice.

For Jemma Simmons, time neither froze nor sped up; the car barreled into Fitz, who had seemed to accept he wouldn't be fast enough to move out of the way and so simply stared ahead, eyes searching for Jemma's.

The force of the impact threw Fitz's body across the ice covered tarmac and Jemma watched as he fell down with a sickening crack. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle and the ice was slowly painted a dark, rich red and Jemma could do nothing but watch in horror, frozen with fear as Fitz's eyes looked up for hers before glazing over.

* * *

**A/N2: I'd like to point out that I don't actually enjoy killing Fitz all the time, he's my baby but it'll all come together soon. The receptionist at the very begining is based on a teacher I met when first moving to Sheffield. She kept calling me 'cock' and I was horrified until someone explained that, apparently, that's a term of endearment around South Yorkshire. **

**Let me know what you thought of this one in a review, please don't just be a silent reader. I know there are quite a few of you who follow this but only three of four people actually review my chapters... **


	7. Hold Me Close As You Turn Out The Light

**A/N: I told you that I wasn't good at updating regularly. This has actually been typed up on my phone while travelling so I'm sorry if there any mistakes in this. **

**I recently received a review from a guest telling me that a family member had passed away and that they were annoyed and angered that I hadn't warned them that I would be killing Fitz in chapter two. I'm not sure why they felt the need to blame me for making their day worse but I have taken their words under consideration and am changing one of the categories in this story to 'tradgedy'. **

**There are only two chapters to this story left so please enjoy and let me know how you're finding it... **

* * *

_**7 - Hold Me Close As You Turn Out The Light **_

"Please be careful near those Bunsen burners, guys," Leopold Fitz called out to the unruly mass of thirteen year olds in the science labs. "I don't want to see any repeats of las' week," he warned, pointedly looking at Ian Quinn who decided in a prior lesson that rather than burning chemicals to observe their reactions, he would rather burn his lab partners hair.

"Raina, no food or drink in the labs, you know the rules," Fitz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. While the Scottish chemistry teacher didn't regret leaving the UK to work in America, he did hate Thursday afternoons. The weekend was close enough to taste and his students knew that, making sixth period Chemistry the least of their concerns.

As the clock ticked by ever so slowly and students called out for assistance, Fitz couldn't help the feeling that something was wrong as he caught one of the students throwing Magnesium at the open flame, laughing as the orange flames briefly burnt blue.

"Did you see that?!" Ian cried out. "Dude, give me that," Quinn laughed as he grabbed the small container of Magnesium from his lab partner, throwing it into the open flame while setting the Bunsen burner on high.

At the sounds of screams and shouts, Leo knew that his quiet afternoon had been too good to last.

* * *

"Alison, send Mrs Carter for an X-Ray and see if you can push the results on Mr Hayes' blood test for me?"

"Sure thing, Dr Simmons," Alison smiled, tucking a pen behind her ear and leaning over the computer station.

"This place is packed today," Jemma sighed, turning her back to the waiting area as she swallowed a mouthful of cold coffee. "That's awful, how the hell are you drinking it?"

"Blame Donny for the sludge in the coffee pot," Alison laughed, raising her own mug in a mock salute while handing Jemma her next patient's clipboard.

Skimming over the information on the chart, Jemma drained the last of the over-stewed brew, "You're awful to the interns," she laughed, walking away in search of her next patient. "Mr Peterson?" Jemma called out to the waiting area, watching as a man and a young boy stood together.

"Tha's us," the man called out, ushering the teenage over to her. "This is Mike an' I'm his teacher, Leo."

"Right then, well I'm Dr Simmons and I'll be seeing to you today, shall we?" Gesturing to one of the cubicle behind her, she began walking, questioning the pair further, "How did this happen?" Jemma asked, inspecting the burns covering the teens hands and arms.

"One of the kids in my class was a prat," Fitz blurted, watching as Mike cracked a smile.

"You can say that again, sir," Mike hissed as Jemma began applying cream to his hands.

"And you weren't paying attention? Tell me, Mr..."

"Fitz."

"Mr Fitz, are you always this negligent around your students?" Jemma asked, looking up as she began wrapping Mike's burns.

"Hey, tha's not fair, I turned my head for a minute and-"

"A child was burnt," Jemma interrupted, cutting off Fitz's response. "You're lucky Mr Peterson didn't suffer further injuries."

"It's not his fault, Doc," Mike piped up, "Quinn's a dick. Bit of a pyromaniac if you ask me. Anyway, I'm gonna be fine, right?"

"Yes but-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about," Mike smiled. "Ian's going to be expelled after this and I'm gonna live so it's all good. Now I need to get home, I'm supposed to be looking after my little brother tonight," he trailed off, looking up at Fitz.

"I'll drive you home as soon as we're done here," Fitz promised, looking over at Jemma.

"You're done here. Change the bandages again in the morning and try to keep them as dry as possible. You can take a couple of Tylenol tonight if they start to hurt but other than that you should be fine, hopefully there wont even be a scar," Jemma finished, clearing away gauze wrappings and her rubber gloves.

"Thank you for this," Fitz offered.

"Yeah, thanks," Mike echoed.

"It's no problem, I assure you," Jemma smiled, escorting the pair to the doors.

* * *

Three days later, Fitz found himself standing in the small waiting room once again, waiting for the English doctor to walk by. There was something about the young woman that had gotten to him and unsure if it was something about her manner, her skills or just an accent so close to home, Leo had returned to the ER to find her.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long as not fifteen minutes after arriving he caught sight of Dr Simmons, walking a patient out of the Drop-In clinic.

"You," Jemma breathed, spotting Fitz leaning against a pillar in the waiting room.

"Me."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to explain myself, I didn't exactly make a good first impression on you and as much as I love our monosyllabic conversation, do you think you could give me a little more to work with?" Fitz laughed nervously, shoving his hands firmly in his pockets so that he wouldn't start twisting them.

"Why do you care what I think of you?" Jemma asked, cocking her head as she put down the chart she was holding.

"Honestly? I haven't a clue," he laughed, pleased to see a smile break out across the doctors face. "Look, turn me down if you want but do you think we could go talk, maybe grab a coffee?"

Straightening up, feeling her back crack as she did so, Jemma took in the man standing before her. "Fitz, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Leo if you want but Fitz is fine."

"Well then Fitz, you're in luck. It's my break right now but between the two of us, I'd much prefer a cup of tea."

"Thank God for that!" Fitz laughed as Jemma took his arm, settling her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked to the cafeteria.

The pair ordered their drinks which Fitz insisted on paying for, making small talk about their lives and work. Fitz learnt that Jemma had graduated from her medical degree early and had only moved to the US a few months ago while Jemma learnt that Fitz had left Scotland almost immediately after getting his teaching degree. Jemma discovered that Fitz had an unhealthy sugar addiction and Fitz marveled over Jemma's love for current music, in particular, rap.

"Go on," Fitz encouraged, "Jus' a little bit?"

"No, I told you, I'm not singing for you!"

"I know you're not singin' for me, you're goin' to rap for me," Fitz smiled, leaning forward as Jemma's phone buzzed.

"Sorry, that's work," Jemma apologised, looking at the screen, "A patient's coming in and I'm needed. Here, give me your number and Ill call you when I'm free. We'll finish our date then," she offered, handing Fitz her phone.

"Date?"

"Yes our... This wasn't a date, was it?" she asked, gesturing around the empty cafeteria.

"No, not at first I mean, but I'd like to. I'd like it a lot," Fitz fumbled, handing the phone back to Jemma who barely finished shouting goodbye before she was gone.

* * *

"Knock knock," Jemma called out, pushing the already open door.

"Yeah, jus' a second I'm jus'- Jemma!" Fitz smiled, spotting the young doctor by the door to his classroom.

"Hi," she whispered, pushing her curled hair behind her ears, suddenly self-conscious.

"I didn't think you were goin' to call. It's been, what a week?" Fitz started, motioning for Jemma to sit down.

"I know and I'm sorry," Jemma sighed, sitting on one of the old lab stools. "You didn't hit save though."

"What?"

"My phone, you didn't hit save after leaving me your number-"

"-Then how d'you-"

"Google. You'd be amazed what comes up when you search for Scottish teachers," Jemma laughed, watching as a grin broke across Fitz's face.

"Tha's a bit much, isn't it?" Fitz teased.

"I promised that we'd finish our date when I was free so if you're not too busy," Jemma trailed off, lifting up the tote bag she had brought with her.

"Now?" Leo asked, amazed that this brilliant woman who stood before him was not only interested in him but had put so much effort into finding him for a date.

"Is now not a good time?"

"No, now's perfect but, I jus'. Well... Jemma?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," Fitz whispered, reaching out to cup Jemma's cheek with one hand, giving her the chance to move away. After receiving no signals against it, Leo began leaning in, overjoyed when Jemma met him halfway in a kiss.

She tasted like mint chewing gum and sighed as he pulled her closer, one arm on her back and the other moving down to her waist. Lips battling against each other Fitz forgot momentarily where he was until he heard giggling from the doorway as Jemma bit down on his lower lip.

"Is that your girlfriend, sir?" One of the girls in the doorway called out, laughing.

Pulling back from Jemma, panic coursing through his veins at the sound of students, Fitz struggled to process the sight of Jemma walking away, hips swaying as she crossed the floor to the door.

"Yes, I am," Jemma smiled, polite as ever as she shut the door, turning the lock for good measure before turning around. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

The years passed by faster than they could hold on to. One moment they were just two twenty-somethings making out in a high school chemistry lab as teenagers ran down the hall, laughing and screaming, the next they were exchanging rings and saying '_I do_'. Marriage, children, seeing their daughter through school and watching their baby girl leave for college. Meeting their daughter's boyfriend for the first time and Leo's teary smile as he walked his pride and joy down the aisle. Jemma's promotion to the ER chief and eventually taking over as the director of the hospital, Leo leaving his teaching post as a high school educator and becoming a profess'or at the local college.

Leo's first heart attack.

Moving out of their flat and to a bungalow when Jemma couldn't manage the four flights of stairs everyday. Leo, watching his wife's arthritis get worse over the years and Jemma standing by as Leo started forgetting things. At first, only small things such as his lunch yesterday or an appointment he'd made and not noted down but as the months went on, Jemma saw her husband becoming more and more frustrated as he struggled to remember large chunks of his day, his week, his life. Through it all, Jemma stood by him, taking on this latest hardship as she has every trouble before: together.

Fitz wasn't completely blind, he knew that his memory loss was affecting his wife. After catching her hiding in the laundry room crying for the fourth time, he began trying to hide the extent of the damage. Playing off forgetting the name of the cat that had been hanging around their house for five years, telling her that there were lots of cats around. Pretending he was joking when he couldn't remember the name of his next door neighbour and best friend for close to forty years. Blaming not knowing how to use a microwave on it being new, not realising that he'd been the one who bought it eight years prior.

Try as he might, Leo couldn't mask all the damage, knowing that despite his best efforts his mistakes had started showing. Jemma accepted that he would only get worse, preparing herself for the fallout, knowing the she had to be strong for her family, for Leo. She excelled at preparation, after all, she could do this.

But then he forgot her name and all of Jemma's preparation had been for nothing. He'd only forgotten for a moment, looking at her with his head cocked, waiting for the right word to come to him but it had been enough for Leo to see what he'd done. He'd forgotten his wife, the love of his life and did nothing, simply stood and watched as he broke his wife's heart just that little bit more.

That was when the arguments started. Fitz thought he should leave, be moved to a home, somewhere where his wife wouldn't have to take care of him like 'some charity case' he'd shout while Jemma would scream her vows at him; _for better or for worse._ Whatever happened, she promised she'd be there. Right by his side,_ the whole damn time,_ she told him.

And it worked.

Leo gained weight and lost his hair and Jemma noticed one day that her hair was more grey than brown and laughed as she pulled out a pen, ignoring the pain in her fingers as she wrote her resignation. They danced, laughed, lived and stayed together, just as they'd promised from the start.

"Sweetheart," Jemma whispered, laying in bed.

"Yes?"

"Did you remember to take your medication?"

"You jus' watched me take it, woman! I know I'm loosin' it but I'm no' completely batty yet," Fitz laughed, knowing that his wife was worried about him. "Now move over, love, you're takin' up the whole bed."

Hissing as she shifted, joints stiff and sore, Jemma slowly inched herself over to her side of the bed as Leo turned out the lights before joining her. Resting her head on his chest, Jemma closed her eyes, smiling as she felt her husband drawing invisible patterns across her back with his finger tips, just like he used to do when they were younger.

"Jem?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I love you, you know tha' righ'?" Leo asked, fingers stilling.

"Of course I do, why would you even need to ask?"

"I jus' wanted to make sure tha' this is wha' you want. I'm old an' fat an' you're still as beautiful as the day I met you," he whispered, smiling as he pulled Jemma closer.

"Even knowing how we'd end up, I wouldn't change a single second of it. I love you Leo, always have and I always will."

"And I love you too, Jemma. G'night," Leo sighed, holding his wife close, his hand feeling her heartbeat through her back, smiling as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Jemma hadn't been able to sleep through the night in years, often finding that she managed to get just a few hours of rest before waking up. That's why she wasn't worried as she found herself stirring in the early hours of the morning.

Keeping quiet, Jemma, slowly sat up, trying her best not to disturb her husband who she'd learnt was a very light sleeper over the years.

That's why she was worried when the TV remote fell off of the bed, crashing to the floor and Leo didn't so much as grunt at it.

Turning over to face her husband, Jemma gasped, raising her hand to her mouth as she took in the sight of the man laying before her. He was pale and cold to the touch and most of all, still. For the first time in her life, Jemma Fitz watched as he husband was completely and utterly still.

Laying back down, Jemma rested her head back down on her husband's unmoving chest, wrapping her arms as tightly around him as she could, tears rolling across her cheeks and falling onto his shirt.

"I love you, Leo. I'll always love you," Jemma whispered, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her and not caring.

Leopold Fitz, loving husband, doting father and wonderful teacher had passed away in his sleep.

* * *

**A/N2: Okay, I won't lie, this chapter made me cry. Actually, almost every chapter of this has made me tear up while writing it. **

**A family member close to me had Alzheimer's and it got pretty bad before she finally passed away so this chapter is really close to my heart. This chapter actually got close to 8000 words and it wasn't even half way finished so I might have rushed then ending a little here. Good new there is that there will be an extended version of this chapter posted separately after _'Every Damn Time'_ is over. **

**Please let me know what you thought of this, I love hearing from you all... **

**Until next time! **


	8. Every Damn Time

**A/N: Okay, final chapter time... **

**Here we are back in the very first Universe, the one in chapter one.**

_**"I have this weird theory that some people are drawn to each other because their atoms were near each other when the universe was created and the same atoms just keep coming back together..."**_

* * *

**_8 – Every Damn Time, You Were Right There Beside Me_**

Waking slowly, it took Jemma longer than she would have liked for the fog to clear her head. Blinking slowly, fighting away the last remnants of sleep, Jemma tried to work out what had woken her, Fitz was still as motionless as ever and none of his monitors had registered any change in activity while she slept, curled up by his side.

Slowly, the sounds of Skye's voice started to filter through the haze of her sleep addled brain, her words whispered and not meant for her to hear.

"I'm telling you, Fitz, she looks like a monkey, all arms and legs wrapped around you. You're like the world's smallest tree!" the 0-8-4 joked, talking to Fitz's comatose form as if he could hear her, as if he would respond any moment now.

It was a habit that at first had angered Jemma, Fitz wasn't there to reply, not really, but Skye continued with her one-sided conversations regardless, driving the biochemist mad. When she eventually snapped at Skye, yelling that Fitz wasn't going to answer, that he might never answer her, Skye had explained it to her.

"_I can't not to talk to him, Jemma. I can't pretend that he's not here because he is here. You're both here and Fitz is going to get better and when he wakes up he's going to want to know what's been happening." _

"_He might not wake up, Skye," Jemma had whispered, looking down. _

"_He will, he has to. He's Fitz and you're Simmons. You guys are Fitzsimmons and you're the closest thing I've ever had to a family and I need you guys. Everything's going to hell right now, we're fighting a war here and we're losing people at every turn and I know that things look bad but they're going to get better. They have to get better so I'm going to keep talking to him because he's still here, we haven't lost him yet, he's just sleeping, right?" Skye finished, refusing to let the tears that had gathered during her speech fall. _

"_Skye, I can't promise that-"_

"_He's going to wake up, he has to," the ex-hacktivist interrupted, turning back to the bed and beginning her one-way conversation with a comatose Fitz as Jemma ran from the room, hiding as tears began falling, one by one. _

Shifting her position in the hard chair, Skye propped up her feet on the metal frame of Fitz's bed, "How about I make you a deal? You wake up and we'll get you a monkey. A proper one, not just Simmons wrapped around you, what do you say?" Skye attempted to bargain with the engineer, pausing as if awaiting a response. "Or you could just have Simmons wrapped around you, doubt you'd fight that one much. It did her some good anyway, first time I've seen her actually sleep in weeks."

"I've not been that bad," Jemma mumbled, refusing to lift her head.

"Hey, you're awake," Skye jumped, moving her feet and leaning forward, "You okay?"

Pausing, closing her eyes Jemma took a second to just be, feeling Fitz's chest rise and fall without the assistance of a ventilator, the way the cuffs of her cardigan were slightly too long, hanging around her wrists and smelling like the detergent that Fitz used, the way the scruff covering her partners cheeks scratched at her hair. The way that for the first time since the rise of Hydra she felt safe curled into her best friend.

"No," Jemma whispered, for once, answering with something other than the standard 'I'm fine'.

"You want me to leave?"

"Not really. It's too quiet around here," the biochemist sighed, missing the usual bustle and chatter of the lab when it was just her and Fitz, taking on the world, one mystery at a time.

"Tell me about it," Skye laughed, trying to coax a sile out of Jemma, sensing her darkened mood.

Not knowing how to respond, Jemma instead chose to busy herself with studying her partner and best friends face. His features had been committed to memory long ago but recently she'd been noticing him in a different light, the way his brows furrowed almost constantly, even in his coma or how the beard growing in across his jaw made him look older.

"At least it isn't patchy this time," Jemma whispered more to herself than to anyone else but Skye heard her.

"What?"

"His beard. Last time he tried to grow one we were back in the academy and he was sick of everyone treating us like kids. He thought a beard would make him look older but he just looked ridiculous. It grew in odd patches and it almost broke his heart when I forced him to shave it off. I haven't seen him with so much as stubble since," Jemma recalled, smiling at the memory of an 18 year old Leopold Fitz shouting at her with a face full of shaving foam, crying out about how unfair she was for not giving his beard a chance.

"I would pay good money to see pictures of that."

"I probably have one somewhere, Fitz hated me taking pictures of him. I had to fight tooth and nail to get him to stay still long enough for me to get a good picture of us," the biochemist smiled, nuzzling her head into Fitz's chest, fingers paying with the soft fabric of his hospital gown.

"Fitz isn't exactly the selfie type," Skye joked, earning a small laugh from Jemma.

"No, he's not one for the spotlight," Jemma sighed, letting the air fill with silence as she remembered all the nights out together, Jemma pulling out her phone and Fitz hiding as she pulled up her camera app or their graduation where the only decent photo she had of the two of them was a candid shot taken by his mother. Black gowns covering his suit and her dress, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up as she struggled to balance on her heels; the picture had captured the exact moment that Jemma had fallen into her partner, diploma gripped tightly in one hand as the other grasped at his shoulder and her face so close to his as he smiled brightly for the whole world to see.

"Simmons?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"What happened? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to but what happened to you two down there? You came back and you're all _different_," Skye trailed off at the end, not knowing how to explain the changes she'd seen in her friend. Going into hiding and fighting Hydra had changed them all, they'd become harder and colder but Simmons was different. It wasn't anger or rage but rather a sense of guilt that radiated from the young biochemist.

"He-he saved me," Jemma sighed, knowing that if nothing else, that that one statement rang true.

"So you say but I don't get it, how did he-"

"He blew up the window," Jemma interrupted, hands clenching into fists as she fought back tears, the memories flooding back to her. "Didn't even give me a chance to stop him, just gave me the oxygen and blew it up. He didn't care, Skye. He didn't care that he was going to die. He knew what would happen to him and he didn't care, I didn't even get to say goodbye…"

Taking a deep breath, Skye tried to process Jemma's words, "Jemma, Fitz knew what he was doing, he's stubborn, once he's made his mind up about something there's no way you're gonna change it."

"But he didn't care about me, Skye. I wanted to stop him and he wouldn't listen to me. I-"

"Jemma Simmons, you're one of the smartest people I know but you're dumb, you know that? I don't know a lot but what I do know is that Fitz does care about you, he cares a lot."

"You don't get it, Skye-"

"Then explain it to me!"

"Fitz told me… He told me that I was more than that. More than just a best friend. He told me that I was more than just his best friend and I couldn't say goodbye or tell him how I feel or stop him before he hit the button," Jemma cried out, sitting up and moving away from Fitz, pacing the small hospital room, hands rising to rest by her throat.

"He told you that he likes you? As more than just a friend?" Skye asked, piecing together her friends rambling.

"Yes."

"And you're upset because you didn't tell him you like him as something more?"

"Yes! What, no. I just- I don't know," Jemma sighed, raking her hands through her hair before letting them fall back down to cover her throat. "I don't know how I feel about him and he tell me he likes me like that and nearly dies for me and what if I don't love him back?"

"But you do love him."

"Of course I love him, I just don't know how I love him," Jemma tried to reason.

"Jemma, you don't have to be _in_ love with him, you can just love him," Skye sighed, standing up and walking over to the manic woman. "You guys have been best friend for, like, forever. Nothing will change that. You can't force yourself to love someone and it doesn't have to be romantic."

"I know that but-"

"If you know that then why are you stressing out?"

"I- I don't know."

"Look, you and Fitz are tight, you're tighter than tight. You both love each other and that's all that matters. Whatever else happens, happens. For now, just be thankful that you're both still here and calm down. When he wakes up, you guys can talk but until then, how about we go get some tea and laugh at Trip's sideburns again?" Skye smiled, shaking Jemma's shoulders slightly.

"Maybe another time, I think I'd rather stay here tonight," Jemma sighed, looking over to Fitz.

"That's cool, I get it. Another time then?"

"Another time," Jemma agreed, moving over to sit on the edge of Fitz's hospital bed, the urge to reach out and brush her fingers through his hair almost overwhelming.

Walking to the door, Skye stopped and turned, watching Simmons hovering over Fitz, her hand halfway stretched out to take his.

"Simmons?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to be okay," Skye smiled, leaving quickly.

Smiling at the younger woman's words, Jemma pulled herself up onto the bed to lay beside Fitz once more, moving his arms to fall across her shoulders and against her waist.

Looking up at the man who was her best friend, her first friend, her confidant, her partner and her touchstone, Jemma couldn't imagine her life without Leopold Fitz. He made her a better person, made her want to be a better person.

"Do you ever wonder what we'd be like if we hadn't met?" Jemma wondered aloud, not expecting Fitz to answer her. "I don't think I can imagine a world without you Fitz. You're like my left arm; you're a part of me. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

Smiling to herself, Jemma began drawing nonsensical patterns across Fitz's chest, slowly recognising her drawings taking shape.

A teacup.

A monkey.

A train.

A stick family, a man, a woman and a small child.

Several molecules, lining up the bonds on the serotonin and the acetylcholine just so.

Picture after picture, random shapes and patterns appearing and disappearing, one after the other.

"Maybe we did meet before," Jemma smiled, thinking about her rant against soulmates only hours earlier. "Maybe we didn't, maybe we could meet again. You're my best friend in the whole world Fitz, I'd find you."

Trying hard to stifle a yawn, Jemma's fingers began to still, her drawings slowly getting smaller and smaller until they stopped, the only movement that of Fitz's chest moving up and down with each breath and the beat of his heart beneath her palm.

"If I had to pick a soul mate, I'd pick you," Jemma whispered, sleep pulling at the edges of her consciousness, "I like you. I like your energy, I'd find you. Every damn time, I'd find you."

Closing her eyes, Jemma allowed her mind to wander, thinking about thermodynamics and energy that could only transform, how it never really died or went away, it just changed into something else. Someone else, perhaps.

And maybe, sometimes if you were lucky, you'd find that person again. Maybe certain energies would come back to each other and maybe they wouldn't, maybe they'd miss each other but maybe, just maybe, if you were really lucky, you'd find someone who's soul and energy completed your own and even when everything else was against you, when science and reason and logic said no, something else said yes.

What if, instead of going quietly into the night ready to start the cycle again, they fought against it? Fought tooth and nail to stay where they were, to stay right beside you?

With all these 'what if's' and 'maybe's' floating around in her head, Jemma felt herself drifting away, falling asleep, unaware of the fingers twitching by her waist, unconsciously searching for hers.

* * *

**A/N2: Wow, okay, I did it. Please let me know what you thought of this, honestly, I can't write for Skye to save my life and I'm not too sure about the ending so I'd like to know what you guys thought of it. **

**I've really enjoyed writing for this fandom again and I hope to be back again soon with a lower character death count. **

**Until next time... **


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